How Do You Cultivate Wonder?

To cultivate wonder for “simple” things may not be easy and we may need to take a step back, but it is certainly possible, and rewarding.

As I leash up his dog, John stuffs cookies into his pocket. On nice days, we walk one of the nearby trails and then stop at a café for tea and coffee to go with the cookies, followed by a leisurely drive through the countryside.

John, a retired commercial airline pilot, has Alzheimer’s. My friend, Cynthia, can’t leave her husband alone. So I hang out with him once a week, which allows her time to run errands, purchase groceries, keep a medical appointment.

One of the things I enjoy about being in John’s company is his childlike ability to see the world in delight. The word Wow shows up frequently in conversations with him.

• “Oh, my gosh! Look at the size of that mountain! So beautiful! Wow! Wow!”
• “Wow, did you see those llamas? So cute! So cute!”
• “Wow, look at how high he’s soaring! Did you see that hawk? Oh, look! There’s two of them! Jimeneez!”

I like to think of myself as a noticer, as someone who pays attention to life, to beauty in nature, to the overflowing number of things there are to be grateful for.

But John surpasses me in so many ways.

Anne Lamott says:

Try walking around with a child who’s going, ‘Wow, wow! Look at that dirty dog! Look at that burned-down house!’ … The child points and you look, and you see, and you start going, ‘Wow! Look at that huge crazy hedge! Look at that teeny baby!’

I get this.

There’s a river trail in town that John and I walked last week. I’ve hiked this section of the trail dozens of times, maybe even hundreds of times. When something becomes so familiar, we fail to notice the amazingness of it.

But John inspired me to experience a favorite trail through his senses. A mama duck conducting swimming lessons. The smell of sunbaked pine needles on dirt. Impossibly tall trees. The roar of water rushing over boulders. Rugged rock formations across the river. The sweetness of Chai tea on an outdoor patio afterward.

Anne Lamott finishes her thought:

I think this is how we’re supposed to be in the world—present and in awe.

How important is it to see our world through the eyes of a child or an Alzheimer’s patient, to carry wonder as part of our inventory?

It’s critical.

Because seeing triggers gratitude. And a grateful heart—especially during our hard and holy moments—produces joy. And if we want this joy, then perhaps we should cultivate awestruck-ness.

What if we got outdoors at least one day this week — even if we’re only able to travel as far as our front porch or back patio? And what if we photographed the beauty and uniqueness that catches our eyes? Because having cameras in our hands causes us to notice better.

How might this change our outlook as we wrestle with the adversities of life that will surely touch each of us?